


Clean up the dirt

by luxuries



Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Heavy Angst, Jason Todd Has No Chill, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Moral Ambiguity, POV Dick Grayson, SNAFU, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26854675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuries/pseuds/luxuries
Summary: There's just more dirt to clean up tomorrow.OR:A routine mission goes horribly wrong when Jason decides to play God.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947232
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Clean up the dirt

**Author's Note:**

> No 6. PLEASE….“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please” from Whumptober 2020 <3  
> Content warning for violence, a little bit of gore but it's not extreme.

"On your 4 o'clock!" Dick yelps into the receiver, watching as Jason's shadow jumps from container to container. The man promptly turns around and runs into the threat.

_Idiot._

It wasn't like Dick was surprised, Jason's methods never really suited Dick. Nor did his morals.

They were in the shipping yard, being chased by some out of town criminals who were probably foolishly led to believe that Gotham was a great place to be; no vigilantes here. No sir. 

Nonetheless, they were being chased. Or at least, they were, until Jason decided he was tired of cat and mouse. Dick watches the horizon for any other intruders, listening intensely. The lulling sound of waves nearby make him regret his career choice. Just a little.

He sighs audibly, making sure Jason can hear despite the static. They were a little out of bounds, leaving the connectivity flashy at best. The best move was to keep close, avoiding the use of their faulty ear communicators.

He leaps off the tower of containers, landing neatly a few meters away from Jason. Grime glues to his shoes, almost sticking him to the surface with every step. There were three groaning men lying on the floor, in varying positions. Probably just taking a nap, officer. A few slobs of red trickle down the blue container just in front of him; no doubt an exciting piece for any blood splatter analyst out there. Dick notes the 'sleeping' men as he moves to help the idiot, making sure they won't spring up in a new bout of adrenaline.

Jason easily finishes off the last man, a well-aimed shot at the criminals knee knocking him down. Dick's presence wasn't even necessary. 

_Why did he agree to join him again?_

Oh right, Jason claimed he was feeling a little off. He didn't say much else, but dick took it in stride anyways, always happy to help his brother. Jason looked completely fine, however. So he assumed the boy just wanted some extra one on one time. _Learn from his wise elders._ Rob his apartment during recon, more likely. Dick has considered buying a safe, but thought it a little too ridiculous. How would he explain it to his one-nighters? They'd wonder why the hell he kept his cereal in a safe- questioning his sanity. It just wasn't practical. 

Dick grabs his handcuffs to fully wrap up the targets. The four would need to share two pairs between them, how romantic! Dick smiles at his own humor as he looks over the first man. Breathing- good. He grabs his wrist and connects it to the other man- which proves difficult as he was shot in the shoulder. 

"Come on, the shoulder? That's gonna sting for weeks!" Dick exclaims in sympathy, turning around to catch Jason's expression.

"Yeah, yeah." He responds offhandedly, checking over his guns. Dick's eyebrows lift as Jason lowers down to grab a man by his t-shirt, using the fabric to wipe off his gun, painting the man's white shirt with even more blood. Classic Jason. 

Dick turns back to his task at hand, trying to coax the brown-haired man to keep his arm straight so he could tighten the handcuff. Naturally, there was some resistance.

The brunette moves his arm alright- only to mash his elbow into Dick's nose. He staggers back, clenching onto his nose. His gloved hand quickly dampens as he tries to stem the warm waterfall of blood.

"Not the noseee-" Dick whines, exasperated. "How am I supposed to woo my suitors!?" He straightens awkwardly, head tilted up like a baby bird. Groaning once more as he feels the liquid flow down his nose, almost tasting it on his tongue. _Gross._ With an emergency bandage kept by his inner thigh, he presses down. It doesn't feel broken. Hooray!

Dick jumps in his skin when he hears a gun go off, the sound reverberating and echoing in the enclosed space. It didn't feel like this before- not so loud, so painful. A thud that sounded dangerously like a dead body crawls up Dick's skin, finding a place to stay in his head for the oncoming weeks. 

He hears another gunshot. Another splatter of gore paints the container. Are they being attacked? Was this a setup?

Dick frantically turns to Jason, trying to gather his status but-

Jason is holding the gun.

He's killing them.

"Hood?" He demands gravely, wobbling towards the figure that was supposedly his brother. Jason looked wrong- a math test with no numbers. Strange. His eyes were cut into slits, pupils so small Dick thought he must be doing drugs. Was he poisoned? Skin pale, eye-bags deeper than Tim's and expression tight. Jawline unnaturally sharp. How did this happen? Why did the mission turn so deadly?

Jason doesn't respond. He turns minutely towards his other victim, not lowering his gun, and Dick feels more than sees the man pull the trigger- snapping Dick's heartstrings with no care.

Jesus christ! What was he thinking?!

Dick notices Jason reloading with savage ease, posture lax. Sick understanding hits him like the bullet. Hood was going to kill the other three. Without thinking, watching the man aim his shot, Dick stands in front of the criminals, arms wide.

"Stop!" He tries to sound solid, aggressive. It sounds more like a plea. Jason's mouth twitches downwards in what seems like annoyance.

"Out of the way, Wing." His voice is so normal, so sane, that it makes Dick shiver.

"Ja- Hood, they're immobilized! What are you doing?!"

"They'll be held for a few months, years if we're really lucky. I'm doing you a favor." And then, under his breath, "Fucker broke your nose." Dick is about to correct him but realizes the real issue at hand. He had to reason with him, somehow.

"Hood," He fixes his voice to the one he used to use, back when Jason was robin and everything was alright. "Let's just go somewhere else, okay? We can let someone else handle it."

"No, not today." And with that the man shifts to the right, easily side-stepping Dick's shield (himself). Dick tries- he really tries- but he doesn't make it. A cut-off scream is all the warning he needs. Dick turns around in shook, watching the last two slump lifelessly. 

"No!" Dick cries out, feeling utterly helpless. What kind of hero did he even think he was? Couldn't even save a few people from his own brother. He said the wrong things- didn't reach out for him- God, was it his fault?

One last shot echos hauntingly across the yard, like a cry to god, a challenge. Dick falls to his knees. The dead man was looking at him- arms reaching towards Dick for safety. His eyes wide and fearful, almost staring directly into Dick's soul. _Why didn't you save me?_ Dick looks down immediately, only to find a puddle of blood slowly increasing, approaching his knees. 

Dick heaves but nothing comes out. Choking for air, his hands pat down his chest and throat, trying to stop the sensation. Trying to find some ground, he crawls backwards, away from the bodies. Some stability. Some ignorance.

Jason casually checks all of their wrists for any sign of life, bringing his face close to theirs as he checks for air. It's so intimate- sacred, and practiced that Dick wants to scream. Jason turns around and detaches his mask, approaching Dick's shaking form as he attempts to stand. 

Jason looks him over, once, twice, and then pushes him gently towards the wall. Dick won't admit it, but he would have crumbled otherwise. His legs felt like somebody else's. Like a newborn foal's desperate attempts at staying upright- the roar of survival urging him on.

"Calm down." Jason soothes, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Dick's eyes flash with rage. He was angry, so angry. And for the first time in what feels like years, it's aimed directly at his brother.

Jason flips the safety and drags his gun over Dick's chest, effortlessly cleaning the weapon in a sick remake of ( _hours?_ ) minutes before. The gun lingers daringly at his left pec, aimed directly at his heart. It presses down, Dick's heartbeat almost pumping out of his chest. 

"Bang." Jason teases, a mirthless smile, a repressed laugh. Dick is speechless.

He looks down at the black and blue of his suit; now black, red and purple. Like a bruise. He feels seasick. The lingering taste of salt in the air mixed with gun powder and something uniquely human- nearly makes him retch again. The sharp pressure of the gun against his chest, unrelenting, drags him back; providing a focus point. Keeping him afloat in awareness of his mortality- in a sea of life and death, a sea of holding too much power. Being too strong. Letting his emotions get the best of him. The feeling of being a _God_ and the responsibility it brings. Choosing who lives and who dies. Something Dick never took to his advantage, something he believed to be out of his hands. Jason thought otherwise.

Dick focuses on the man's face. Eyes searching the thoughtful look of Red Hood for any sign of this _not_ being Jason. That Jason didn't do this. Someone possessed him- made him all wrong.

He finds only the man's laughter lines, the small formation of wrinkles on his forehead from a lifetime's worth of pain, the warm glint in his eyes that made Dick feel safe, a look that compelled him to smile every-single-time. The waves of his dark hair that was so uniquely his, a white lightning strike right smack in the middle, highlighting the depth of his features. Chiseled cheekbones. Abstract freckles. Fully, painfully, Jason.

Jason's eyes narrow at Dick's expression. Dick isn't sure what he looks like, exactly. But he knows he feels afraid, worried, and- somewhere deep inside, pity. 

Jason loosens the pressure of the gun and lets him go. He sheathes the weapon in his holster and watches as Dick sags with his back against the wall, to the yellow-red-don't look steel. He feels impossibly human, impossibly mortal. 

They were just men- fighting and fighting and fighting. Where does it stop? Where does it end?

Dick watches with a jittery, uneasy heart as Jason grabs his red mask, giving a final look to Dick (exposed, fragile, seeking some form of acceptance- wishing he were different) before walking off.

Like nothing happened at all. 

The dead men surrounding Dick tell a different story. They could have had families- people that cared for them- pets- children- oh god.

Dick's hand trembles as he lifts it to his ear-piece.

"O-Oracle? Can you send Red Robin to my current location?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by yonderboi - before you snap (perfectly fits Jason !!!!! 100% recommend)  
> ok i know the whole dick cereal thing is overplayed but let me have this. let me have this. Stay safe everyone.


End file.
